Committment
by Aeru
Summary: The one thing Tala Valkov loves as an adult is the one thing that haunts him. Reflective. One-Shot. Implied Sex, Rape and Bisexuality. Abuse and Language.


This is the first story I've submitted to FF, and hopefully it won't be the last.

Disclaimer: I don't own Tala, Boris or Voltaire. I wish I did, but I don't. D: Oh well.

Reviews would be appreciated. nn

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_He hit the wall with a sickening thud and slowly slid down onto the cold stone floor. Hot red liquid blurred the vision of one eye, stinging relentlessly. The back of his head burned, and he felt his pulse there, concentrating on one spot to continue pushing blood out of his head wound, blood that mixed with similarly coloured hair._

_He pressed his forehead against the cold stone in hopes that somehow, the coolness he felt against it would follow to the burning wound on the back of his head. He kept his head low, hoping that, by some miracle the furious elder man would grow tired of beating him and return to bed and leave him to pick up the millions of broken pieces that were his life._

_Instead, he heard the man close the short distance between them. The sound of his boots clicking against the floor made him feel sick to the stomach. "Get up, you worthless piece of shit!" barked the older man. He felt the cold leather of a boot jab his side once. The boy shut his eyes tightly and clenched his teeth, feeling one shift loosely. "NOW!" He bellowed._

_"I-I can't..." he choked, bracing himself mentally. Sobs clawed their way up his throat, only to meet a closed mouth and the determination of a young boy not to give satisfaction to his attacker. Tears mixed with blood, stinging his eyes further._

_Cold leather connected with his bare side, holding formidable force. And it happened again, and again, and again, followed by blow after blow from a cane, renewing old bruises, bestowing new ones and breaking skin where blows had hit too many times. And they stopped for seconds - 8 seconds, he counted._

_A large, calloused hand gripped his hair and with a sharp yank, the boy was pulled to his feet, and glossy eyes met violent purple ones, for no more than a second before the first pair of eyes - icy blue - took the liberty of averting his gaze._

_A fist caught his stomach abruptly, and the boy gasped at the pain. Another blow followed, striking him square in the chest this time, the force pushing him back into the wall once more. The rest of the blows followed as such. The stomach, the chest, the head... Soon, a knee connected with his groin, not once, but several times._

_And then, the abusing hands disappeared, and the body backed several paces. His world went hazy, and he fell to his knees, using bruised and cut arms to support his weight. Said arms gave way eventually, and the boy fell to the cold stone floor, barely conscious._

_"He's developed well," came a voice, presumably a second one, from the other side of the room. "His..." the voice hesitated, searching for the right words, "..Equipment has developed quite satisfactorily also. Of course, you never really know for sure..." continued the voice, which was approaching slowly, using the click of the shoes against the cold stone as a simple but rather effective scare tactic, "until... you test it out... for yourself," finished the voice, turning husky towards the end._

_The redhead, the boy with icy blue eyes felt a clammy hand grab at his hair and wrench him up in much the same way the other man had, promptly closing his second hand around his somewhat bruised 'equipment', as the eldest man had so eloquently put it. "Commitment, boy," came the husky voice in a whisper._

_He vomitted then and there ... and it earned him another gruesome hour of torture._

Tala gave a cry and woke with a start. He sat up in one swift, sharp movement and squinted. The world was black, but he felt something soft covering his body, and heat beside him. His wide eyes, icy blue eyes, adjusted to the lack of light slowly as he panted, wiping a thick film of cold sweat from his forehead. He looked beside him with a start as something shifted and groaned. A man... and beside said man - another man. Wide eyes shifted to his other side - a woman this time.

He clutched that soft something covering his body and ripped it back, causing the woman to move in her sleep. As Tala moved, something bothered him; something sticky against his bare stomach. He touched it once. "Ugh," he grunted in disgust, and flew out of the bed, navigating his way around in the darkness, using his hands to feel his way around the room.

It took a few moments of climbing and stumbling over clothing items that Tala finally made his way to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him and flicking the light switch. He hissed at the sudden assault of particularly bright light on his eyes and shielded them, stumbling towards the toilet bowl. He flicked the lid and seat back less than quietly. Promptly, he emptied his stomach into the bowl, heaving and spluttering.

Minutes passed before he finally had no more to offer. He felt for the button and slammed his fist against it, falling back against the cold tiles of the floor. He turned and clawed his way towards the furthest corner of the room and huddled against the walls like a frightened animal. Tears streamed down his cheeks, blurring solid objects into one big mass of colours. He hugged his arms over his chest - protectively, defensively, any way he could, and rocked.

Commitment was a brutal thing. A thing he swore never to get himself into ever again. Besides, a lot of things could be enjoyed without commitment. Commitment was something that was unnecessary, something that led to bad things, unfortunate things, gruesome, painful things. Commitment to the abbey, to Boris, had earned him mental, emotional, physical and sexual abuse for as long as he could remember as a child. Commitment to blading had earned him emotional and physical abuse for as long as he could remember in his blading career. Commitment to his current job earned him emotional and physical abuse, and though it was not in the same manner that he'd been abused in blading and at the abbey, it still exhausted him.

Sex, on the other hand. Sex was free. He could take or give as much of it as he liked and he never had to commit to anything. It was the only thing in his life where he was free of the demons which haunted his past, and yet... it was the only thing in his life that kept them there.


End file.
